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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443140">Lovebirds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mall_fountain_nessie/pseuds/mall_fountain_nessie'>mall_fountain_nessie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Kuroshitsuji (2014), Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crack, I wrote this for her, Multi, Valentine's Day, and i was a little bit high for some of it, apparently, grell is a milf, grell loves valentine's day, sebby gives will a pigeon, this is to be read in cecil's voice from night vale</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:42:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29443140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mall_fountain_nessie/pseuds/mall_fountain_nessie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Happy Valentine's Day! Today we celebrate St. Valentine, a priest who was beaten, stoned, dragged around town, and decapitated. Some say the color red represents the pools of blood around his body. Funtom's selling teddy bears for fifteen percent off.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby, Sebastian Michaelis/William T. Spears, William T. Spears/Grell Sutcliff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lovebirds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was going to write a lot more but turns out I'm very slow (and bad) at writing so for actual V-day I only have part of the Dispatch's chapter, but hopefully I'll get the rest up soon!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Valentine’s Day.<br/>The single worst creation humanity has to offer. A capitalist nightmare of love, heteronormativity, and sugar. A lie propagated by the greeting card industry to sell little cardstock squares with sickly cute designs on them.<br/>William hates Valentine’s Day.<br/>When he enters work at 7am, he notices that his precious reaper dispatch offices are entirely covered in colorful paper hearts and streamers, jazzing up the plain white and grey building. He lets out a little sigh and heads to his office. This is fairly normal; Sutcliffe stays very late every February 13th to decorate for her favorite day of the year. He rips the heart that says ‘LOVE IS IN THE AIR’ off the door to his office and locks himself in for the day. It is definitely not in the air. At least, he hopes not. Then he’d have to sanitize the place.<br/>He adjusts his glasses and gets to work, poring over some paperwork turned in after he left last night. As time passes, Will’s coworkers start to filter in. Alan arrives about fifteen minutes before work starts and gives Will a little wave from outside the glass of his office. He gets a nod in return. Eric follows him, and Will notices he has a purple flower pinned to his lapel. It’s not particularly garish. In fact, it’s rather tasteful. If only everyone could celebrate the holiday so respectfully. The other reapers greet each other noisily with “Good morning” and “happy Valentine’s Day!” while Will ignores them. There are some new recruits too, though he hasn’t bothered to learn any of their names. There’s one with a dark ponytail and one with slicked back blonde hair, and Will worries they’ll take after their seniors (Grelle and Eric) and go even wilder with their hairstyles eventually. But that’s not important right now.<br/>Less than a minute before 8am, Ronald enters, with a rather melancholy look on his face that’s uncharacteristic for the blonde reaper, his lawnmower slung over his shoulder. Eric pats him on the back and the two talk briefly about what Will can only assume is the tragedies of love. Aka, that girl from General Affairs didn’t want to be Ronald’s valentine for whatever reason.<br/>Five minutes later, Will sighs. Sutcliffe is tardy again. That in itself is unfortunately normal; she’s often late for a variety of frivolous reasons. Hair wasn’t cooperating, couldn’t find her false lashes, bullet wounds- the list goes on for days. What’s unusual is that she’s late on Valentine’s Day. Often she shows up on this day even earlier than Will. He’s had to spend decades of February 14s working alongside her and this has never happened before.<br/>He decides not to look into it too closely and count his blessings.<br/>His blessings last exactly twenty four minutes before a horrible noise splits the air. As if you took the love child of cat and a hyena and put it through unspeakable torture.<br/>Will winces and pushes up his glasses. Grelle has arrived.<br/>“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, DARLINGS OF MINE!!” a loud voice shrieks as Grelle prances into the bullpen, waving her chainsaw in a very unsafe manner, wearing-<br/>Oh. Oh, god.<br/>Will shields his eyes with a hand. And then peeks through his fingers to properly describe this to Human Resources.<br/>In absence of her usual white blouse with pinstripe pants and an amber vest (which is already a uniform violation but at least it covers her whole body), Grelle sports a bright red thing that can only be described as ‘work inappropriate’.<br/>It’s some unholy fusion of crimson lace and transparent red fabric, with flowing sleeves and an incredible amount of odd red and black ruffles in place of pants or a skirt or anything. If that isn’t enough, fishnets and bright red heels with black fluff around the edges complete the look. Will yearns to go back to a time when he didn’t know Grelle had a navel piercing and surprisingly defined legs.<br/>His face feels a little red.<br/>“Miss Grelle?!” Alan shouts in surprise, and Will suddenly remembers that Grelle somehow is farther along in seniority than everyone in the dispatch except him. “Wh- what is that?!”<br/>Grelle blows him a kiss and Eric immediately puts a hand in front of the shorter reaper. “It’s my special look for the day of romance, Alan!” She twirls around so everyone can see the outfit- lingerie, it’s honestly lingerie- in all its inappropriate glory.<br/>Ronald’s hand is covering half his face. “Uhh… hey, senior, please- please don’t come to work looking like that?!”<br/>Grelle waves a gloveless and daintily manicured hand at him. “I wouldn’t expect a kid like you to understand,” she huffs. “It’s a mature thing~”<br/>Eric shrugs. “She doesn’t look half bad.”<br/>“ERIC?!” Alan yells instinctively, his face bright red. “It’s- it’s just inappropriate for work! Miss Grelle, you can’t”-<br/>She pouts at him and twirls around- during which she spots Will, who’s been staring at her and this whole chaos from his office.<br/>“WILL!” Grelle shrieks in excitement, slamming herself against the glass window that separates his office from the bullpen. “WILLIAM!” Her cheek is squished against the glass and slightly impeding her ability to talk. Red lipstick is getting on the window, too. “WILLIAM, H- HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”<br/>Will groans and presses two fingers to his forehead. “Grelle Sutcliffe, you are late. And your appalling outfit violates shinigami regulations. Honestly”-<br/>“Ahhh, so cold!!” the redhead screeches in response. “It makes me shiver with deadly anticipation!!”<br/>Will sighs. “You can’t wear that- that thing at work. Go change. And then you have to turn in an apology letter for being late and”-<br/>Grelle pouts. “Isn’t there any other way you can punish me, Will~”<br/>Eric empties a bottle of water onto her. “Too kinky for 8 am. Stop that.”<br/>The newly drenched Grelle splutters in shock and shakes her hands in an effort to dry them. “Eh- what was that for?!”<br/>“It’s okay guys, she’s no longer horny!” Ronald shouts to the rest of the office. (This is definitely untrue. If freezing ocean water and 26 stitches don’t sober her up, nothing will).<br/>Will pushes up his glasses and sighs again. “Go change, Sutcliffe.”<br/>“But- but I don’t have any other clothes here!” she protests, waving her hands about wildly. “Although, if you’d prefer me au naturel, that can be arranged”-<br/>“You can borrow some of mine, then.” Will opens the cabinets that are mostly for file storage and retrieves his spare outfit. A very simple black work suit identical to the one he’s wearing now, in the case of any spills or blood spatters. “Go to the locker room and change.” He slips the clothes through the door and shuts it, but not quick enough to avoid a peck on the cheek from Grelle that leaves a smudge of red lipstick on his face.<br/>Ronald stifles a laugh and Will shoots him a look that can only be read as ‘more overtime for you.’</p><p> </p><p>Thirty minutes later, Grelle hasn’t returned. Will taps his fingers on the desk absentmindedly and wonders whether she’s just taking her time primping, gone home to change into her own clothes, or in need of serious medical attention. He briefly debates whether it’s worth it sending someone to check up on her (God knows he won’t do it himself) and decides against it. He’d have to fill out an awful lot of paperwork if one of his underlings accidentally saw Grelle naked. Will shudders at the thought.<br/>A knock on his door draws him from his thoughts. Will glances up, slightly afraid it might be Grelle, but it’s only Alan, thank goodness. Holding a slightly large box gift-wrapped in glossy black paper with a sleek ribbon, also black, tying it all together. Will furrows his brow, trying to figure out what that could possibly be, but he’ll know faster if he just answers the door, so that’s what he does.<br/>“Yes, Humphries?” Will asks, opening his door. “What is it?”<br/>“William, sir, this came for you,” Alan replies, handing him the black box, which is rather heavy when Will takes it. It seems like there are things sliding around inside, and he thinks he hears the box squeak as if there’s a live animal inside, but that can’t be true. “Someone left it at Reception and they didn’t get their name.”<br/>Will squints at the box. “Why would someone leave this for me?”<br/>“Girlfriend, maybe?” Alan shrugs.<br/>Will raises an eyebrow at him. “Dismissed, Humphries.”<br/>While Alan heads back to his desk- actually, to Eric’s, but whatever- Will sets the black box on the cabinet and desperately tries not to think about it until his break.<br/>It could be a bomb. It was probably a bomb. He really shouldn’t be keeping a bomb in his office.<br/>Eh, he shrugs. No one who knows Will would try to murder him that way, so it probably isn’t .<br/>It could be from Grelle, he muses. But she’d never wrap something in all black. Or is that just what she wants him to think?<br/>He endeavors to take his mind off it and focus on going over accounting’s reports, but the mysterious black box nags at the back of his mind until, blissfully, the dispatch’s lunch break finally arrives.<br/>While everyone else gets up and mills over to the cafeteria, or to some small restaurant nearby, whatever, Will stays in his office. He- finally- picks the package up and places it in the center of his desk. If it is a bomb, he’s doomed. If it’s not…<br/>Eventually, his curiosity overtakes him and he pulls at the black ribbon with two fingers. It unravels, and he neatly peels off the wrapping paper without a single tear. The box underneath is black too, and he lifts off the top, heart beating faster than usual, to reveal…<br/>A pigeon.<br/>A live, cooing, fat little English carrier pigeon with groomed grey plumage and a little black bow delicately tied around its neck.<br/>Will’s incredible confusion battles with his unadmitted love of the little creatures, and eventually the bird love wins. He holds out a hand to the pigeon, who hops on his finger and coos pleasantly. It pecks at his thumb, but he doesn’t mind.<br/>“You’re a dapper little fellow, aren’t you?” Will says admiringly to the pigeon, who’s scratching under its wing with its beak. “You have, and this is not a joke, better manners and dress sense than everyone I work with.”<br/>The pigeon coos appreciatively and flies to a perch on Will’s shoulder. He gives it a little smile before returning his attention to the box. There’s also a heart-shaped box of chocolates-<br/>Oh.<br/>Will’s eyes narrow to dangerously furious levels as he notices the label on the chocolate. The very same as the foolish company that weird child and his disgusting pet demon run!<br/>He gives the pigeon a sideways glance. “Did you know about this?”<br/>The bird only pokes his neck in response and Will’s temper grows worse. There is a letter as well, buried amongst the wrapping paper. He adjusts his glasses and picks it up, already annoyed by its prospective contents.<br/>Dear William, it reads, and Will already hates it. Happy Valentine’s Day. Yours with loathing, Sebastian Michaelis.<br/>“Stupid demon!” Will shouts aloud, nearly throwing the card across the room in rage. His outburst startles the pigeon, who coos in surprise and flaps away to perch on the top of his cabinet. That filth had the audacity to send him a gift? A romantic gift?! How dare he! What could he possibly stand to gain from this? That revolting creature!<br/>Will’s initial anger fades as he watches the pigeon flap its wings and coo nervously. “Sorry,” he apologizes to it, a bit rushed. He picks up the box of chocolates and opens it, to check for one specific thing. As he suspects, each treat has a little needle-sized hole at the base, the kind there is when one injects poison into chocolate.<br/>“Tch.” Although he’s strangely a bit relieved the demon was trying to kill him and not romance him.<br/>The box and its contents, along with the card, are thrown in his wastebasket.<br/>However, the pigeon stays.</p><p> </p><p>The dining hall hasn’t been spared from the ruthless terror of Valentine’s Day either. The paper decorations are strewn everywhere and Will can barely get lunch (a plain kale salad because the last thing he wants today is to be festive) without being assaulted by pink confetti. On his way back to his office to eat, Ronald, who has a pink ribbon in his hand, waves at him frantically. As a consequence of ignoring the bumblebee-haired kid, he gets Eric yelling, “OI! SPEARS! GET OVER HERE OR GRELLE’S GONNA MURDER YOUR ASS!”<br/>Will laments the days when his subordinates were scared of him. Oh, how he missed it…<br/>Instead, he relents and dejectedly sits down next to Alan, who seems to be enjoying the holiday more than years past. Will narrows his eyes at him. “May I ask what is so important that you must interfere with my work?”<br/>“... Sir, it’s lunch break.”<br/>“What is so important?”<br/>Eric leans over the table from beside Alan. He has a shit-eating grin on his face and Will raises an eyebrow at him. “Grelle’s brought everyone presents,” he explains, evidently enjoying both being given presents and how uncomfortable Will clearly is. “She’s just off getting the next load from wherever she’s stashed them now- but look at what she got Ronald!”<br/>Upon hearing this, Ronald’s eyes widen. “Absolutely not. No. No way.”<br/>“Oh, come on, it’s cute!” Alan smiles, and Eric pats him on the head. Will wonders if that’s appropriate for the workplace, but eh, if Grelle can be… herself, they can have a little affection for Valentine’s Day. “Show him!”<br/>A slightly flushed Ronald reveals a large mouse plushie- about the size of a box of files- that he’s been hiding under the table. It’s fluffy and amber-colored and wearing a little red vest with a heart patch and a necktie. The other reapers, even the ones who aren't sitting with them, make “aww” noises and Eric laughs. “See! It’s adorable!”<br/>“I swear she thinks I’m five,” Ronald grumbles, staring the stuffed mouse in its button eyes. “It’s like dealing with a weird mother that I am confusingly attracted to.”<br/>He sighs. “Grelle is like a MILF.”<br/>A perfectly good salad is ruined for Will and he stares at Ronald in dismay. Weighing in on the topic would only give it power, but every brain cell he has strongly objects to this. Meanwhile, Eric cackles hysterically and Alan fights a giggle. One of the newest reapers- the one with short blonde hair- high fives Ronald.<br/>“Ah, have you lot been having fun without me?” a horribly familiar voice grins from behind him. Grelle leans over his shoulder and gives him a big, lipstick-covered, shark-toothed smile. “Hi, Will!”<br/>“G-Grelle?” He almost doesn’t recognize her and keeps staring while she sits down next to him and piles lots of colorful pink and red boxes onto the table. On her, his work clothes are just a bit oversized, and his tie is very clumsily done around her neck (maybe that’s why she always wore a ribbon instead). Instead of a coat, she’s still wearing the transparent swishy red thing with ruffles at the end from her earlier, horrible outfit, but at least she’s wearing it over a stiff white work shirt. Will supposes this is about as professional as she gets nowadays.<br/>	She sidles up to him and pokes his chest. The redhead asks, blushing at him, “What was so funny?”<br/>	Alan literally bites his tongue, Eric stifles a laugh, and Ronald drowns in shame, hugging his mouse plushie. Will sighs. “Nothing. What are… those?” he asks, pointing to the dozens of neatly wrapped boxes she’s brought with her.<br/>	Grelle clasps her hands together in delight and giggles. “I’ve brought lots of loving gifts for all, darling! I made Ronnie the most delightful little mouse”-<br/>	“YOU MADE THIS?!” (His tone is less impressed with her craftsmanship skills and more ‘why would you do this’).<br/>“-and I gave Alan some lovely flower seeds so he can start a garden in the building’s yard, and Eric- oh, Eric, you haven’t opened yours yet!” Grelle hands him a pink box the size of her head wrapped with frilly ribbons and marked with Eric’s name in elaborate cursive.<br/>Eric, a bit taken aback, unties the ribbons. When he opens it, he makes a confused look. “Er… what is it exactly?”<br/>“Well, I thought about getting you some intimate romantic things”-<br/>“NO.”<br/>“-but I thought you might like this better!” she grins broadly. “It’s a lovely little cylinder for a phonograph! I remembered you saying you liked this song, at, ah, your graduation, so I got it for you!”<br/>Eric gives her a bewildered look. “Uh, thanks, Grelle. That was thirty years ago, I don't know how you remember that. I like it though, it’s nice. That song was good...”<br/>The redhead giggles and latches onto Will’s arm like some sort of super-strong octopus with sucker arms. “Now it’s your turn, honey!” With a free hand, she slides over a rather flat box with bright red ribbons and paper that went on for days. “I put a lot of time into it, I hope you like it!”<br/>Will lets out a deep sigh and unwraps the ornately decorated box. It’s too flat to be another pigeon- maybe pigeon eggs she found and was entrusting him to nurse? If so, she’s wrapped them completely wrong. He sets aside the curly ribbons and gently lifts up the lid. Please don’t be naked pictures of Grelle, please don’t be naked pictures of Grelle, please don’t be naked pictures of Grelle.<br/>He’s pleasantly surprised to see a book. “Oh.” He picks it up. “I suppose this is alright, Sutcliffe.” (For him, that’s a very nice ‘thank you’).<br/>“Read the title, read the title!” Grelle shrieks, squeezing his arm tighter. He groans and opens the book.<br/>“The… The Story of Will the Reaper?” He whips his head around and stares at her. “Is this the”-<br/>“Yes, honey, it’s the book that charming young man wrote about you all those years ago!” she squeals, bouncing in her seat. “I looked through his Record and re-wrote it for you!! Isn’t that so”-<br/>“Sutcliffe, it’s against reaper law to check out Records for personal use! I’ll have to write you up for this.”<br/>She pouts. “But isn’t it a nice gift? And he wrote you in such a flattering way…”<br/>Will sighs and sets the book down. “It’s very, very sentimental of you.” He suddenly became aware of Alan sniffing next to him. “Humphries, are you- are you crying?”<br/>“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!” the brown-haired reaper wept, clinging to Eric. “Isn’t it, Eric?”<br/>He shrugged. “It’s some pretty cute shit, yeah. Kinda sappy, but it’s sweet of her.”<br/>The pigeon was a better gift, Will thought. More useful. But he couldn’t deny that he was going to read this. After he wrote up Sutcliffe for violating the rules.<br/>“And that isn’t all, my darlings!” Grelle giggles to herself, clapping her hands in excitement. “I’ve also brought home-made chocolates for everyone in the dispatch division! And my dear Will, of course”~<br/>Eric raises an eyebrow at her. “Grelle, baby doll, this is too much. Plus, you can’t cook.”<br/>She shrugs and hands him a neat red box. “Maybe my homemaking skills leave something to be desired, but I know how to make these, if nothing else! Ronnie, here are yours,” she adds, distributing little red boxes of slightly dubious chocolate, “And Eric, and Alan, and here you go, Will!” Grelle places a box in his hands cheerily. “Where’s Othello, by the way? I made licorice ones just for him…”<br/>Eric shrugs and eyes a little square lump of chocolate. “I dunno. Probably holed up in his lab somewhere.”<br/>“Well, no matter, I’ll just make a separate delivery to him!” Grelle chirps, clasping her hands together. “Eat up, my loves!”<br/>She looks at them expectantly while they all freeze in terror. Grelle’s cooking is notoriously horrible. She’s banned from contributing to any food-based event. Will had attended an office party at her flat once- she couldn’t even make tea right. Nevertheless, Ronald cautiously eats one and everyone else looks at him with suspense. He shrugs. “These are actually pretty good, senior. Thanks.”<br/>“I told you!” Grelle exclaims. “I’m quite good at making sweet things! Just not cake. Or cookies. Or… well, I’m really only good at candies, to be honest.”</p>
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